


the long way 'round

by fateaccompli



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29006823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fateaccompli/pseuds/fateaccompli
Summary: Hacy vignettes - no. 1: "All right, let's drop the pretense," he'd said.So he had.She had not.
Relationships: Harry Greenwood & Macy Vaughn, Harry Greenwood/Macy Vaughn
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5





	the long way 'round

**Author's Note:**

> Watching this scene at the end of Cursed Words (S2E10) ran my muse over. Currently, my plan is for this series of vignettes exploring Hacy (and maybe other characters within the context of Hacy because I have a huge soft spot for Abigael). I don't have structured plans at this point, but that may change as I write.
> 
> 28 Jan. EDIT: POVs may change from chapter to chapter depending on the plot's kernel.
> 
> Song playing during this scene: Waiting for You by Paperwhite feat. Heather Bond

Harry imagined he had smoother words and softer eyes for Abigael and Clara, or any of the other women James had snuck into bed with while Clara was left curled around Carter. All he could do was imagine.

Alternatively, one did not survive their decades without patience when one had many patients. Surely a Whitelighter's witches count, though perhaps the patients were irrelevant when it came to Harry. Harry had patience in spades that could rebuild Nebuchadnezzar’s ancient wonder. It had only grown when his Darklighter had been siphoned out of his seizing body.

Thus, although he had no slick left for Macy, Harry was a patient man, so what remained left like this:

"All right, let's drop the pretense," he’d said.

So he had. A yes or no question.

She had not. Many words about the Power of Three and none about them – when the Power of Three had survived the Source and dates with a half-demon. Words that spelled fear and said, “I cannot,” or, “I will not,” which left them in the same place.

He could not remain where they had been. What did he want most: Macy, Abigael, clarity?

Honesty – the need slammed in time with his heartbeat. Clarity might be asking for a lot and they were in debt to the universe's charity, but honesty. Honesty was not a whole lot, was it? Not when the core of your relationship is a secret from just about everyone else on the planet. Not when you shed blood and court death, side by side.

Harry could've orbed out at any moment or walked out at a purposeful clip, but he wanted her to watch his back as he pulled on his jacket and she clutched at her status quo. He wanted her to know she could call for him – for Harry, not her Whitelighter – at any point between her face and the door. He wanted her to know that he could off her more than his back but for whatever held her down. The Elders were gone and now the Charmed Ones were writing the rules. Desire was in the equation. Maddening respect. He was the good half left of a human man.

Harry didn't know who felt worse for knowing he was going to Abigael's apartment. He didn't know who he hoped felt worse: whether he was a sadist or a masochist.

Tumultuous, not worse. Sure, there was a pit in his stomach like he was a peach with a storm at its core. He forced his fingers to relax while his nails begged to curl deep into his palms. And there was a pain in his jaw; these days, don't people wear retainers at night for things like this? For how many months had he bit his tongue and grit his teeth? Swallowed a cry for change, for more?

He didn't know how he felt except pain that crept into numbness, like the green poison, like when he saw Julian's name crop up on Macy's smartphone, like when he saw her look at him. He didn't know what he'd expected when he told Macy they both knew better, he would lay it on the table, he would lay them on the table. He didn’t know what he would do if she were on the table. Pause, probably. Savor the moment. He didn’t know how it would feel and taste to be as close to Macy as he wished to be, but he had once been a whole man. He could imagine.

Yet he can _remember_ reaching for Abigael, who did not deny herself. Who did not fear or despair her desire. Who sought the next high point with the focus of a hawk heavens high over the hill.

They both counted the familiar click of his heels against the stone steps and heard her stillness. His feet felt light; his will was a matter only Atlas could carry. Every movement was smooth and did not suffer from self-doubt. Walking to the door, pulling it open, going when, in the tumultuous pit, he waited for her to tell him to stay. 

Then the door closed loud behind him, punctuated closure. Macy stayed at the foot of the stairs, Julian's message gone black in her hand.

On the other side of the door, Harry collapsed into the neutron star that made nanometers from distance. The tumult remained. Perhaps he couldn't remember how it felt to have everything ripped away from him in 1957, but he could never forget the feeling of leaving her behind. He'd given her the chance.

Given them _a_ chance. It was the first and it could be the last, but even as he strolled toward Abigael across coral tesseract carpet, he could imagine another. More. Macy, too, had strength, persistence, and passion in spades… when her will was engaged. He remembered multiverses of it, culminating in the Source taking herself out for the sake of her loved ones. Courage, like Abigael's ambition, gave her the power to change and grow.

Harry was a patient man. What happened once he had left the command center, whatever existed afterward, it would no longer be up to her. It would be up to them.

They could be anything.


End file.
